Page 17 of Fractured

“Sure, Dad. You just want to get to that Key Lime pie.” I chuckle.

“Can’t put anything by you.”

I follow him into the kitchen and grab two bowls from the cupboard. He ladles a large serving in mine, a smaller one in his. As we eat and converse about his various neighbors and visiting volunteers, I notice he seems more upbeat than I’ve seen him. I’m not sure what’s different, but the last few visits have not been as morose. Could it be he protests too much, and this lady who visits for lunch each month is more than a nice person who listens to his stories? Whatever the source, I pray it continues, for both of our sakes.

Later, I’m making my way toward the door with almost half of the key lime pie in Tupperware for later. “Thanks for the chili, Dad. And the talk. I’ll call you once I talk to Gavin and tee up the weekend landscaping job.”

“Can’t wait to meet him. It’ll be nice to have some young blood around here. Think we could interest him in fishing when it’s warm enough?” Dad asks optimistically.

“We can try. Maybe get him on the boat.” I turn to wave one last time as I walk toward my car and stop abruptly, remembering something. “Oh, Dad. You were right on the money.”

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“Boss Baby!” I laugh.

Kat

Walking into the NICU, I follow the signs for the nurses’ station. I have to be at work in an hour, but I haven’t been by to check on Katrina and the baby and wanted to see how they’re doing. I’m not sure Katrina will be here, but it’s worth a try.

I approach the first nurse I see in an attempt to gain more information. “Hi. I’m Katarina Kelly. I’m a PA in the ER here and had a patient who delivered a premature infant a few weeks ago and was wondering if there was any way to check on the two of them and possibly leave Katrina my number in case she needs anything.”

“Oh, sure. Katrina, you said?”

“Yes. Katrina Knowles.”

“Ah, I think she’s here with Grace now. She’s pretty much moved into the NICU to be close to her little girl,” the nurse shares with a slight smile.

Grace. What a beautiful name. I’m kicking myself that it’s taken me so long to come and see her. But it’s hard to fit in visits to ex-patients when you’re dealing with a ‘not even mid-life yet’ crisis.

I follow the young nurse toward a large plexiglass enclosed area containing multiple incubators, bassinettes, rocking chairs, and various pieces of medical equipment. As I get closer, I spot Katrina wearing a yellow gown, standing over a clear isolette. The NICU nurse pokes her head in the door and advises Katrina she has a visitor, and I watch as her face lights up as her eyes meet mine. This perplexing girl. My heart goes out to her. She almost skips over to the door to greet me.

“Kat. I can’t believe you came. Can you come in? I want you to meet her.”

I look to the kind nurse beside me, and she just nods. “Washing station is to your left and then grab a gown and gloves, please.”

I smile over to Katrina, who returns to her baby while I wash and don my yellow gown and blue gloves. As I enter the quiet space, I walk slowly over to Katrina’s side and peer down into the acrylic incubator. This tiny infant is so small, she almost doesn’t look real. She’s covered in stickers and a sea of wires and has the tiniest oxygen tubing placed in her nose. “Katrina, Grace is a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl,” I tell her, staring down at the frail little one. I watch as Katrina slides her hand through the portal next to the infant and takes her tiny hand. As she gently rubs her gloved thumb over the baby’s tiny fingers, I observe as Grace opens her sweet hand and grabs ahold of Katrina’s finger. I inhale a gulp of air, amazed at the sight. “How old is she?”

“She’s thirty-two weeks today. It’s a miracle she’s done so well. I know we have a long way to go, but she’s a fighter.” She glows, demonstrating pride and obvious love for her child.

“She takes after her momma,” I say, almost without thinking.

“Thanks, Kat,” she replies, never taking her eyes off of her precious miracle. “I’m so scared. I still don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no idea how to be a mother. I can barely take care of myself. Then there’s my sister and brother. How am I going to take care of a baby?”

“Katrina, I had no idea. You’re taking care of your siblings? That’s a lot for anyone to handle.”

“Well, I have some help. But I’m all they have. And obviously, that isn’t much. I love them, but they deserve better than what I can give them. So does Grace,” she pauses momentarily. As I turn, I notice a lone tear trickling down her left cheek. “I just don’t think I can do this, Kat.”

“Oh, Katrina. Have you talked to any of the caseworkers here? They might be able to help. Maybe they can find some assistance for you. Help with food, a place to live.”

“Yeah, they’ve been here. But there’s only so much they can do. I guess I have a while before I have to do anything. She won’t be able to leave until she’s bigger and breathing on her own. I’ll keep praying for a miracle.”

I feel my heart squeeze within my chest. Suddenly, my troubles seem so insignificant. “Katrina, thanks for letting me meet your daughter. I have to get to work, but I’d like to come again sometime. I’m going to leave my number with the nurse at the desk if you ever need anything. Hang in there, okay?”

“Thanks, Kat. You’re always so nice. It means a lot to me that you came by.”

I give her a small smile as I walk toward the door, saying a silent prayer for Katrina and Grace as I head down to the emergency room to start my shift.

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